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Weekly Contest #363
Maddie Brooks looked across Lake Marlowe and let out a slow breath.The reunion carried on behind her beneath the picnic pavilion. Laughter drifted across the water. Someone argued over the grill. Children shrieked near the shoreline. The sounds blended until they became background noise, leaving the gentle slap of water against the dock to fill the silence she'd been chasing all afternoon.She slipped off her sandals and let her feet hang over the edge. The water rocked the dock in a slow rhythm. Out on the lake, a fishing boat cut across the...
Weekly Contest #359
The bell over the door didn’t make a sound as Cain “Iron” Maddox walked into Ink & Iron. He moved with a quiet, deliberate weight, the kind that made the air shift before he even crossed the threshold. Sara looked up from her station and found him standing in the doorway, broad shoulders filling the frame, dark hair pushed back like he had run his fingers through it. His cut marked him as a Rusted Saint, but the way he scanned the shop didn’t match the swagger she’d come to expect from the club. His gaze moved with precision, checking wi...
Weekly Contest #356
The first raindrop hit her windshield like a warning.It splattered dead center, a fat, heavy bead that slid downward with the slow inevitability of bad news. Tessa watched it fall, then watched the next one, and the next, until the sky opened up in a sudden, slanted sheet of rain that swallowed the road ahead."Not now," she whispered, leaning forward over the steering wheel as if proximity alone could improve visibility. Montana storms were different. Back home in Oregon, rain was a constant companion, soft, steady, predictable. Here it came...
Weekly Contest #355
Rain hammered the Rusted Saints clubhouse hard enough to shake the windows. Water rolled off the rusted gutters outside while thunder moved across San Perdido like distant artillery. Most of the town had gone to bed hours ago. The people of San Perdido knew when to stay inside. The clubhouse smelled of cigarette smoke, gun oil, and wet denim.Bishop Harlan sat at the head of the scarred table with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He had not raised his voice all night, which made the room more tense, not less. Men like Bishop were most dangerou...
Weekly Contest #354
Rowan McCrae didn’t mind doing hard work.He minded being told to “smile pretty for the ladies tonight” by two separate grandmothers before eight a.m., but the work itself was fine.He stood in the community hall, looping a strand of gold lights over a beam while Dottie Wheeler supervised like a sparkling drill sergeant. “Higher,” she barked.Rowan lifted the lights one notch.“Higher.”He lifted them again.Dottie squinted. “Hmm. Maybe lower.”Rowan bit back a laugh. “Dottie, you’re just moving the goalposts to see how long I’ll put up with it.”“O...
Weekly Contest #352
The ladder slipped before Miranda even had time to scream.One second, she was stringing gold lights across the barn rafters, the next the world tilted, wood cracked, and gravity yanked her down. The lights tore down in a golden cascade, leaving her momentarily exposed and fragile.And Cord McAllister had caught her mid-fall, arms locking around her as the lights crashed in a shower of sparks around them.His breath was warm against her ear, a flicker of concern and something unspoken passing between them, making her heart race.His heartbeat wa...
Weekly Contest #351
Silas hadn’t meant to build anything.He had only gone out to move the stones from the lower field. The space Mae used to complain about every spring when the ground shifted and brought more of them up. She stood at the edge of it, hands on her hips, nudging one loose with the toe of her boot. Saying he would break an ankle if he didn’t take care of it. He had told her he would.There never seemed to be any reason to hurry. Something always needed to be done first. The field looked the same now, with dry grass blowing in the breeze. Stones sat...
Weekly Contest #350
The goat was wearing a bow tie. An actual black bow tie. It was slightly crooked, fastened beneath a beard that made him look both wise and unserious at the same time. Miranda Caldwell stopped in the middle of Red Willow farmers market, one heel still raised like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “No,” she said out loud. The goat blinked at her, slow and calm, and then went right back to chewing like nothing in this situation required his attention. “Sir, you are…overdressed.” “Names Benedict,” a deep voice said behind her. “And he ...
Weekly Contest #349
Dawn came thin and cold, the kind that slid under sleeves and settled into bone.Ivy kept her hands steady anyway.Milk rang soft against the bottom of the pail, a hollow, steady rhythm that grounded her more than prayer ever could. Warm foam gathered at the surface. The goat leaned into her knee, solid and alive."Easy, Dixie," She murmured.Breath curled from both of them, pale wisps that rose and then vanished. Outside the shelter, the pasture lay brittle with frost. Fence wire moved in the wind, a dry metallic sound that she knew better than...
Weekly Contest #348
Thump…Thump…It wasn’t the quiet that comes after everyone has gone to bed. It was heavier than that. It pressed from every corner, filling the space between the bed, the chair, the walls, until the only thing left in it was the sound I couldn’t stop listening to.Thump…Thump…I sat beside her and listened.Everyone else was asleep. They had been for hours. The light from the hallway stretched across the floor and stopped just before the bed. The room smelled like soap and disinfectant.Her breathing caught and dragged, then went quiet for a mome...
Weekly Contest #347
The sign over the square read: "Welcome to Bramble Ridge Harvest Fair." Bria ducked under it with a crate balanced against her hip. The scent of cinnamon and fried dough was in the air. The low sound of conversation was all around her. It was the same scene every year. The same booths in the same spots, the same people walking around, and the same expectations.She set her crate on the long wooden table in front of her and took a deep breath. “Morning, Bria,” Mrs. Winston called out from two tables away. “You’re here early.”“I like having a f...
Weekly Contest #346
Text MessageFrom: EthanTo: AudreyTuesday, 9: 47 PMHey, you left your headphones at my place.Text Message From: AudreyTo: EthanTuesday, 9:52 PMOh, no, my favorite ones?Text MessageFrom: EthanTo: AudreyTuesday, 9:53 PMThe big over-ear ones, yeah. I can drop them off tomorrow if you want.Text MessageFrom: AudreyTo: EthanTuesday, 9:55 PMThat would be great. Sorry for the trouble.Text MessageFrom: EthanTo: AudreyTuesday, 10:14 PMI may have accidentally seen what you were listening to when I plugged them into my laptop.Text MessageFrom: AudreyTo: ...
Weekly Contest #345
The Last Table on the Train The man had been taking a sip of water when the waiter came up to the table, a woman walking behind him.The train rocked beneath the dining car. A rolling motion that made the water in the glasses slosh and the silverware clink against the plates. Outside the window, beside the table, fields were sliding past in a dim glow of early evening.“I’m very sorry,” the waiter said, lowering his voice. “It appears we double-booked this reservation.”The woman had a folded ticket in her hand and an uneasy look on her face, r...
Weekly Contest #344
One More Dance The fiddler lifted his bow and called, “One more before the break.”Boots shuffled closer to the dance floor. The wooden boards creaked under the weight of a dozen couples already lining up. Lanterns strung across the rafters cast a warm glow across the barn walls, and dust hung faintly in the air where people had tracked it in the gravel lot.Ellie stood near the doorway, fingers curled around a rough wooden post. She had been standing there most of the night.Music filled the room, bright and quick, the kind that made people la...
Weekly Contest #342
Embers at Juniper Ridge The first time Cora Bellemy met Wade Ashcroft, she was standing in mud, arguing with a goat. “This is not how we treat our guests. You can’t jump on them and chew on their yoga mats.” She informed the goat. Who was standing there, chewing on her coat zipper?“Doesn’t seem to be listening to you.”The voice came from behind her, low and gravelly, like it had been carved out of pine bark.Cora turned too fast, boots slipping, and hands waving in the air. She would have landed face-first in the mud if a hand hadn’t reached ...
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